


In Which Eames is the Empire State Building and Arthur is the Chrysler Building

by Itneveroccurredtomeatall



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Chrysler building, Crack, Empire State Building - Freeform, M/M, NYC, New York City, architecture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 07:24:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14373804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itneveroccurredtomeatall/pseuds/Itneveroccurredtomeatall
Summary: Eames loved his life. It was perfect in almost every single way. He had a great view of the city and he got to meet new people every day. He had seen hundreds of people get engaged and many more kissing and a few recreating a scene from a movie he had never seen. He had started to learn French recently and he was getting pretty decent at it. He was next to the train station and he could see people going in and out of a nearby library. His only problem was his neighbor (whom he had more-than-neighborly feelings for) bordered on being disinterested in him to being disgusted with him. Somehow, he couldn’t tell which was worse.





	In Which Eames is the Empire State Building and Arthur is the Chrysler Building

**Author's Note:**

> I went to New York City the other day, and I have always loved the Chrysler Building (and I'm about to declare a major in architecture!). I'm also a huge fan of Inception. So, this was the result. Enjoy!! :)
> 
> This is my first published work! I've been writing fanfiction for years, but I've always been too afraid to post. However, I feel like I'm at a nice place in my life to start! I have a lot more in progress right now, so please let me know what you think! (They're less ridiculous than this :) )

Eames loved his life. It was perfect in almost every single way. He had a great view of the city and he got to meet new people every day. He had seen hundreds of people get engaged and many more kissing and a few recreating a scene from a movie he had never seen. He had started to learn French recently and he was getting pretty decent at it. He was next to the train station and he could see people going in and out of a nearby library. His only problem was his neighbor (whom he had more-than-neighborly feelings for) bordered on being disinterested in him to being disgusted with him. Somehow, he couldn’t tell which was worse.

To say Eames made a first bad impression was an understatement. He had, quite literally, stolen Arthur’s thunder. And his record as the tallest building in the world mere months after Arthur had achieved it. He liked to think he had also stolen Arthur’s attention, but Arthur seemed oblivious to him. It was only slightly better than his hatred, which Eames had experienced first-hand for many years. Apparently, Arthur was a sore loser. In the race for New York’s skyline, Eames had overtaken him and he had not handled it well.

_I don’t want this extra attention_ , Eames had wanted to say as he looked over to the slightly shorter building who seemed to wither as Eames prospered. _I’d give it to you, if I could_. But he hadn’t said anything.

And Arthur had refused to speak to him until World War II started.

Eames, of course, had been immediately taken with his neighbor. They were the only two close to their height anywhere nearby and they were both Art Deco. Robert, of course, was also pretty tall, but he lived on Wall Street. Personally, Eames would hate to live there, surrounded by all-work-no-play suits. He loved the tourists and their carefree, vacation attitudes. He loved their distinctive lack of suits and their different languages and the way everyone wanted a photo with him. It really boosted his self-esteem. Arthur always said he didn’t need any more confidence, but he enjoyed the attention.

In addition to their similarities, Eames liked Arthur because Arthur was beautiful. It might be shallow, but he couldn’t help but stare at Arthur. He gleamed in the sun, his metal spire was sleek, and despite his age, still appeared to be modern somehow. At night, his spire lit up, like a beacon. He had small eagles and contrasting bricks and, if Eames could breath, he was certain that Arthur would have stolen his breath away many years ago. Fortunately, over the years, Arthur warmed up to him. After what Eames liked to call The Silent Years, Arthur started to talk to him more frequently. Eventually, their conversations became daily rituals and Eames was always surprised by Arthur, even after so many years. They talked about anything and everything.

There was the time they talked about the birds.

“Do you ever feel like a murderer?” Eames had asked one night once everyone had left except for Dom and a few of the other night guards.

“What?” Arthur had snorted.

Eames couldn’t help but admire his brightly, yet tastefully lit spire.

“A murderer,” he’d repeated. “Because of all the birds.”

“It’s not all that many birds, Eames,” Arthur had said exasperated. “I can’t remember the last time a bird flew into me.”

“Yesterday,” Eames had supplied helpfully. “You were complaining about it yesterday after one hit you at 6 am.”

“Well, they shouldn’t fly into me. I need to sleep sometime,” Arthur had said matter-of-factly, remorselessly.

“Yeah, and a bird just plummeted to its death after flying into you,” Eames had replied. “Doesn’t it bother you?"

“Should it?” Arthur had replied. “It’s not like I can just move out of the bird’s path, Eames.”

“Yes, but-”

“If it were wrong, there would be a law about it,” Arthur had said firmly. “And there isn’t. So it isn’t.”

Eames had frowned internally at that very Arthurian answer, but said nothing. What could one say to that? Arthur was difficult to argue with. He had always been particularly stubborn.

There was one occasion when Arthur had opened up to Eames. It had been New Year’s Eve on Y2K. Personally, Eames hadn’t understood why everyone was panicking. The world wasn’t going to end, but it was interesting to see so many people united in the same semi-ridiculous fear.

But, Arthur hadn’t found the fear so ridiculous, which surprised Eames. Between them, Arthur was always more logical. But on that New Year’s Eve, Arthur had finally let some of his boundaries down. “Eames,” he’d said into the darkness. “Just so you know, I don’t actually hate you.”

Eames had always known that. And he had said so.

“I just,” Arthur had struggled to find the right words. “I guess I’ve always been a bit … jealous of you.”

Eames had been taken aback. “Jealous?”

“Yes,” Arthur had ground out. “Jealous. Everyone loves you. When they think of New York, they think of you. And I- I just want to…”

“You want to be appreciated,” Eames had finished for him. “Admired. Loved.” _I appreciate you. I admire you. I... love you_ , he had thought. But he hadn’t been able to bring himself to say it. Even as the world was supposed to be ending.

“I- yes,” Arthur had said.

He had replied, “Don’t worry about it, darling. Being admired is overrated.”

And the next day the world continued. And neither Arthur nor Eames had brought up their conversation again.

Then, there had been the time when Arthur surprised him by being completely fluent in French.

“Tais-toi, Eames!” he had said after one of Eames’ long, rambling rants about the weather. “Ce n’est pas grave! Ce n’est rien! C’est New York. Parfois, il neige en avril, Eames. C’est la réalité. Le monde n’est pas parfait. Et cela ne t’affecte pas vraiment, n’est-ce pas? Tu es fait de métal et pas de sucre!”

Eames had been so shocked he’d only managed to stammer, “Tu parle français?”

And Arthur had replied, “évidemment” in a clipped tone.

This was yesterday.

But today, Eames was in a good mood. He had managed to warn two birds away from him, saving them from a nasty fall. And they’d had his lights lit up in blue, which always made him extra cheerful. Today was also the day he had resolved to tell Arthur about his feelings.

At about 10 in the morning, Arthur woke up. Eames had been up since 5 planning what to say.

“Arthur,” he began. “I have something important to say to you.”

“M’kay, Eames,” he said. “Go ahead. I’m listening.”

“I love being your neighbor.” He paused.

“Me, too,” Arthur replied flatly. "Is it National Neighbor's Day?" Eames could hear the irritation in his voice, so he hurried on and ignored the question.

“I just wanted to let you know that I appreciate you and that I admire you and that I love you,” he said quickly.

For a long moment, Arthur was silent.

Eames waited.

“Eames, I-” Eames prepared himself for the worst. _Eames, I don’t like you. Eames, I wish I were on Wall Street with Robert. Eames, I wish I were in Paris with Mal. Eames, thank you. Eames, I don’t love you. Eames, I don’t want to talk to you anymore._

And then Arthur continued, “I think I love you, too. Je t’apprécie. Je t’admire. Je t’aime.”

And that night Eames’ lights were lit with the colors of the rainbow.


End file.
